


A New Chapter

by ghost_writer26 (kinksock22)



Series: Curse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Bottom Sam, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mention of Heat, Mpreg, Omega Sam, Self-Lubrication, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/ghost_writer26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds out he’s pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 10/23/13 on livejournal under ghost_writer26. Un-beta'd.

Sam wakes up slowly, stretching his arms and legs, smiling at the pleasant ache in pretty much every muscle in his body. He keeps his eyes closed, reaching one hand out, blindly searching for his brother, wanting to spend a lazy morning cuddling even though Dean will tease him for it – which is mostly all for show anyway; Dean loves to cuddle Sam close to his side and wrap his arms around him just as much as Sam does.  
  
He sits straight up, his eyes snapping open in a panic when instead of his brother’s sleep-warm body all he finds is cold, empty sheets. The room is silent and there’s no sign of Dean. Sam shivers despite the warmth of the room and the early morning sun creeping in through the crack in the curtains. The room itself is pretty small but without Dean’s overwhelming, larger-than-life presence, it seems even smaller, like the walls are closing in on Sam.  
  
Being newly mated, their bond is still developing. Granted, being that they’re brothers and were already unnaturally close, it’s stronger than it should be after only a month but with Sam’s growing panic, he’s having trouble focusing enough to tap into it.  
  
He doesn’t remember a lot from yesterday. He’d been feeling off all day, his head a little fuzzy and his skin too warm and his stomach cramping but it honestly hadn’t even registered that he was starting his heat again. Last night is an even bigger blur. He remembers hunting the shifter and his heat spiking right as they were chasing the damn thing down and he remembers bits and pieces of Dean getting him to the car and getting back to the motel but aside from the pain and need coursing through his whole body, that’s about all he can recall.  
  
Had Dean gone back out to hunt down the damn thing himself? Surely he wouldn’t do that without backup, right?  
  
Sam pushes himself up off the mattress, his whole body protesting the movement, and grabs his duffle, digging through it to find clean clothes to put on; he really can’t focus on finding his brother while he’s naked. As he gets dressed, his absently scans the room. Their clothes from last night are still in a messy heap near the door and Sam gets a flash of his own shaky hands trying to get them undressed then Dean’s hands stilling his own and taking over the job. Dean’s duffle is sitting right next to his, right where it has been for the three days that they’ve been here. The salt lines are undisturbed and the protective symbols are still intact and Dean’s knife is still under his pillow. The weapons bag is on the table, right where it should be but Dean’s Colt is missing. He peeks out the curtain, his heart slamming against his ribs when he sees the Impala right outside their door, sleek black paint glinting in the sun.  
  
Sam grabs his phone and inhales deeply, trying to calm his frantically beating heart so he can focus. He may be an omega now but he’s certainly not a simpering, delicate little princess. He presses the speed dial for his brother, gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaks slightly, and listens to ring after ring. His eyes slide closed when it eventually goes to voicemail, his brother’s gruff voice like a balm on his soul yet ripping his heart apart. He doesn’t bother to leave a message.  
  
He’s debating on calling Bobby, pacing the room like a caged tiger, when the door opens. Sam spins around, his breath leaving him in a rush when he sees his brother. Dean looks up at him, eyes wide, his hands outstretched.  
  
“Whoa, easy, Sammy,” Dean mutters as he closes the door behind him, quickly grabbing Sam’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Sam blinks owlishly, his lips opening and closing a few times. “What’s wrong?” he eventually repeats, his tone raspy.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Dean stammers. “It reeks in here. Worry and fear. Now what’s wrong?”  
  
Sam closes his eyes and takes a moment to be grateful that nothing happened to his brother, then snaps.  
  
“What’s wrong?!” he repeats again, forcefully pulling himself from Dean’s hands, once again pacing the room. “I wake up, confused and alone, with no sign of you. The last clear thing I remember was hunting the damn shape shifter. I didn’t know if you went out after it yourself or if the damn thing had somehow gotten to you!”  
  
Dean stares at him a moment, eyes still wide and unblinking. “Shit,” he eventually sighs. “’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t think you’d be awake so soon…”  
  
“That’s your excuse?!”  
  
“No,” Dean says carefully, his hand reaching out like he wants to touch but dropping a moment later like he realizes it’s not the best idea. “It’s just an explanation. I didn’t mean to worry you. And I didn’t realize yesterday was so hazy for you. Bobby got here early this morning and is workin’ on the hunt.”  
  
“So where were you?” Sam grits out.  
  
“I… I went for a walk,” Dean mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck, his gaze dropping from Sam’s.  
  
Sam frowns, his head tilted to the side as he studies his brother. There’s definitely something off about Dean now that he’s focusing on it. “I’ve known you my whole life,” he starts softly, “And you’ve never been the ‘take a walk’ kinda guy,” he says slowly. “What… What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothin’,” Dean says quickly; too quickly.  
  
“Bullshit,” Sam counters. He inhales deeply, almost falling over with the scent of panic and fear coming off Dean. “Fuck,” he breathes. “What the hell, Dean?”  
  
“I told you, it’s nothing,” Dean snaps back, stalking away from Sam and flopping down on one of the rickety chairs at the table.  
  
Sam stares at his brother for a second, taken aback. Ever since the change and they mated, Dean’s been nothing but sweet and kind with him, gentle even. They haven’t had a single stupid argument. It hurts in a way but then again it doesn’t. Sam doesn’t want to lose his brother in gaining a mate.  
  
Sighing softly, Sam closes the distance between them, sitting down on the edge of the bed so that he’s facing Dean, the room small enough that he can reach out and touch without having to stretch.  
  
“I know you,” Sam says softly. “Aside from what I can sense comin’ off of you, I  _know_  you. Somethin’s up.”  
  
Dean glances up at him, hazel-green eyes searching his for a few long, silent moments. “I… You… How’re you feelin’?” Dean asks quietly and for all that Sam knows his brother, and is getting to know his mate, he can’t identify the emotion in his tone right now.  
  
Sam licks his lips and shakes his head, thrown off for a second by the non-sequitur. “I… I, uh, ‘m fine,” Sam mutters.  
  
“Really, Sammy,” Dean urges. “How’re you feeling?”  
  
“Well, ‘m a little sore and ‘m kinda still tired and ‘m confused and pissed off…”  
  
“You still feelin’ your heat?”  
  
Sam’s lips open automatically then snaps them shut. He frowns, really taking inventory of his body. Aside from the slight ache of his muscles and a bit of tiredness, he physically feels fine. “No,” he says softly after a moment. “’m not. Why… Why am I not?” Dean raises one eyebrow, his gaze turning soft and a little liquid. “No,” Sam breathes, shaking his head. “No. That’s… No. That’s impossible.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean sighs, shaking his head. “We knew you’d be…”  
  
“Don’t,” Sam grits out, pushing himself up onto his weak, wobbly legs. “Don’t say it.”  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“No, Dean.” Sam paces away from the bed, stopping to stand in the middle of the room. He stares at the wall, unseeing, a million thoughts running through his head. “I… Yeah, I guess in the back of my mind I knew it could happen,” he says softly, talking more to himself than his brother at the moment. “I just… I thought we’d have more time. I sure as shit didn’t think it’d happen durin’ my second heat,” he pauses, swallows thickly, “I haven’t even really gotten used to being an omega,” his voice is low, barely-there, throat tight, “I hate the way I feel, that I have no control over my own body when that happens. I still remember what it was like to be an alpha. I… I hate that I need you so damn much just because of fuckin’ biology…”  
  
“Sammy…”  
  
“We were forced into this,” Sam continues, ignoring his brother. Now that the floodgates are open, it’s like he can’t stop. “And sure, I’ve wanted you for years and I know you said you felt the same but we… We wouldn’t’a ever acted on it. I’ve forced us into this. And now… Now ‘m gonna bring a… our child into this shit-storm. How can I do that?” his voice breaks, “How can I subject an innocent kid to our life?” He turns and looks at Dean finally, a few tears breaking free to slip down his cheeks. “What’re we supposed to do? Raise this kid like Dad did with us? Motel rooms and crappy food and risking life and death every fuckin’ day?”  
  
Dean sighs softly and pushes himself up out of his chair and closes the small bit of distance between them. “Calm down, Sammy,” Dean says softly. “’s gonna…”  
  
“I swear, if you say ‘s gonna be alright, I’ll punch you in the face,” Sam grits out. “How is this possibly going to be alright?” He pauses, his eyes squeezing closed, his head shaking. “Do you even want this?” he whispers.  
  
“I…” Dean starts and Sam reopens his eyes, locking with almost identical hazel-green. “I still haven’t even really wrapped my head around it,” Dean admits softly. “That’s why… When I scented it, a million things went through my mind, everything you brought up plus a shit-ton more. That’s why I went for a walk. I wanted to try’n clear my head,” his hands come up and wrap around Sam’s biceps, “It hasn’t even been a full day yet and we’re already fighting about this,” Dean mutters, shaking his head. “’s not… My opinion isn’t the one that really matters here, kiddo. I’m sorry that you hate bein’ mated to me and ‘m sorry that this happened, since it seems like  _you’re_  the one that doesn’t want it…”  
  
“That’s not what I meant, Dean,” Sam huffs. He drops his head, his forehead resting against Dean’s. “I don’t hate bein’ mated to you,” he whispers, nuzzling their noses together. “I hate the way it happened. I hate my new biology. I… I’m not sure what I feel about the… baby. I mean, you know how much I hated growin’ up the way we did. And I swore, on the off chance that I ever had kids, I wouldn’t do that to them.” A soft sigh escapes his lips and he dips down to kiss Dean softly. “I love you, De,” he breathes. “You know I do. But I just… I don’t know if we’re ready for this. If  _I’m_ ready for this.”  
  
Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s shoulders and pulls him flush against his chest. “Honestly, ‘m not ready either. But it happened and we have to deal with it, one way or another.”  
  
“What... What’d you think we should do?” Sam asks quietly.  
  
“I… It’s a part of you,” Dean answers simply around a shrug. “To me, that’s enough.”  
  
Sam smiles sadly, fresh tears stinging his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” Sam admits, feeling weaker than he ever has, even when he was going through the change from alpha to omega. “’m confused.”  
  
Dean mirrors his small, sad smile, and nods. “I think you have every right to be confused. And scared. And a whole bunch of other things. But we… Let’s just not think about it right now, okay? I mean, we literally just found out. Let’s take a few days and not even think about anything. We’ll take a break and drive somewhere and hole-up. We’ll rest and cuddle,” Dean rolls his eyes, causing Sam to chuckle softly, “and get our heads on straight and then we’ll talk about it.  _Really_ talk about it.” Dean arms tighten around him and Sam bends over enough to rest his head on his brother’s broad, strong shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Sammy. And no matter what, we’ll be okay, I promise.”  
  
Sam nods against Dean’s neck, latching on to those two little words. Dean’s never broken a promise to him before.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
They stayed in town just long enough for Bobby to contact them and let them know that he’d finished up the hunt. Dean talked to him on the phone, keeping up the pretense that Sam was still in heat and promised that he’d call Bobby soon. They were on the road by later that night.  
  
Sam curls up in the passenger’s seat as best as he can, his head resting against the window. He knows that Dean was right, that they need to take some time to get their heads clear then talk about everything and that thinking about it now, and fretting about it, isn’t going to do any good. But Sam just can’t shut his brain off.  
  
He hadn’t meant to insinuate that he was unhappy being mated to Dean. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. If this had to happen and he had to be mated to anyone, he’s glad that it’s Dean. But he also meant what he said about it being all his fault. It was  _him_  that was cursed and needed to be saved, it was  _his_  heat that Dean needed to help him through and  _his_  biology that let him conceive.  
  
Even with Jess, the idea of having kids was a foreign concept. Sam truly never wanted kids. The truth of it is, he’s so afraid that he’ll screw up like their dad did. The thought of raising a child into their lifestyle, of bringing an innocent life into a world filled with so much evil and pain, is too much for him to handle.  
  
Several hours into the drive, Sam closes his eyes, pretending to sleep even though he knows he’s probably not fooling Dean – his brother is the one who taught him that trick after all. He feels Dean’s hand slide over his thigh and he has to fight the urge to scoot across the bench seat and curl up against his brother’s side, feel his arm around his shoulders.  
  
At some point, he must have actually fallen asleep because the next thing he’s aware of is Dean’s hand gripping his shoulder and shaking gently. The distinct lack of road noise and motion has him opening his eyes, his gaze automatically going to Dean’s.  
  
His brother’s hazel-green eyes are tired, exhaustion clearly lining his face, and the smile curling up his lips is small and tentative. “Sorry to wake you,” he says softly. “But we’re here.”  
  
“Where is here, exactly?” Sam asks, his tone rusty from sleep and he suspects, left-over emotion. He takes a look around, frowning slightly at the expanse of trees around them and the rustic wood cabin they’re parked in front of.  
  
“Somewhere in Montana,” Dean replies with a shrug. Sam raises one eyebrow in silent question. “One’a Caleb’s old hunting cabins. Far as I know, not too many people know it’s here. I’m sure you remember how Caleb was. He uh, once, when you were at school and Dad was out doing his own thing, I helped him out on a hunt. He showed me this place and told me if I ever needed it, I was welcome to it.” Dean licks his lips, his hand still on Sam’s shoulder kneading the tense muscle almost absentmindedly. “There’s no one around for miles. Figured we could use the isolation.”  
  
“What about supplies?”  
  
Dean smirks and for a moment everything feels normal. “There’s more than likely plenty’a shit still here but I stopped at the store a ways back while you were sleeping.” Dean’s hand slides up a bit, cupping Sam’s cheek for a moment, before falling away. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”  
  
Sam follows his brother into the cabin, admittedly not expecting much. But aside from a layer of dust and the air being a little stale from being closed up for a few years, the inside is pretty nice. The room that they enter into is decent sized, an open floor plan that means the living room and kitchen aren’t separated by walls. There are two doors at the back of the room which Sam assumes are the bathroom and bedroom. Dean takes the supplies he bought into the kitchen and Sam hears him rummaging around in cabinets and drawers while he opens the windows, trying to air it out a bit. He’s still lost in too many thoughts, mostly all of them centering around the barely day-old fetus he’s carrying.  
  
He flinches in surprise when strong hands land on his hips, his brother’s chin hooked over his shoulder. He hadn’t even heard Dean move toward him. “Thought we agreed not to think about it for a few days?” Dean asks softly, his lips pressing a barely-there kiss to Sam’s t-shirt-covered shoulder.  
  
“’m sorry, De,” Sam sighs, tipping his head to the side so that their temples press together.  
  
“Don’t be sorry, baby boy,” Dean murmurs, his arms sliding around Sam all the way, his touch kind of tentative. Sam closes his eyes, guilt hitting him hard. Because of his stupid fears and insecurities, his mate thinks that he doesn’t want his touch, doesn’t want  _him_ , anymore. “You wanna go ‘head and talk ‘bout it now?”  
  
“No,” Sam mutters, turning around in Dean’s embrace, wrapping his own arms around Dean’s shoulders. Dean makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat when Sam dips down and slides their lips together. Dean hesitates a moment before he starts kissing Sam back, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Sam blindly walks Dean backward, toward the couch, following his brother down when Dean collapses onto the cushions.  
  
Dean pulls him tight against his chest, Sam’s legs straddling Dean’s thick, muscular thighs, one hand sliding up under the hem of Sam’s t-shirt, tips of his fingers rubbing soothing circles on the small of Sam’s back. “Sammy,” Dean moans into the kiss, his name smeared against his lips and it makes his hips jerk, his half-hard cock rubbing against Dean’s through the confines of their jeans. Dean grabs the back of his head with the other hand, his fingers tangling in Sam’s hair and gently pulls him back. “You sure?” Dean asks softly, an unreadable look in his eyes.  
  
“’m positive,” Sam replies, grinding down against Dean again, drawing a moan out of both of them. “’m sorry, De,” he continues softly, “I never meant that I don’t want you. I do. ‘m just… ‘m scared,” he admits weakly.  
  
“Shh, baby,” Dean coos, pressing harder against the small of his back, right over the swell of his ass. “’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.”  
  
Sam nods and leans forward again, the pressure of Dean’s fingers in his hair causing tiny pinpricks of pain on his scalp that make his cock twitch. He nips at Dean’s bottom lip, his hands shoved between their writhing bodies, awkwardly trying to get his brother’s jeans undone. Dean chuckles softly at the frustrated whine that tears from Sam’s throat, letting go of him completely to gently push him back. “Stand up for a second,” Dean rasps.  
  
Moving away from the heat and strength of Dean’s body takes more willpower than Sam honestly thought he possessed. His legs are shaky when he stands up, his hands trembling with want and need as he starts to strip himself. Dean watches him silently for a moment, his eyes darkening even more when Sam’s throws his t-shirt over his shoulder and drops his hands to the waist of his jeans. “Fuck, little brother,” Dean growls, his hands sliding down Sam’s chest. “So hot, baby.”  
  
Sam licks his lips and pauses with his jeans undone, his cock tenting the front of his boxer briefs through the open flap of his jeans. “C’mon,” he murmurs, sliding one hand into his shorts, palming his hard, already leaking length, “get naked for me.”  
  
Dean bites down on his kiss-bruised bottom lip and rips his own shirt off, tossing it blindly over the back of the couch before quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them and his boxers down to his knees. Sam’s mouth waters, his hole clenching and leaking at the sight of his brother’s flushed, blood-thick erection. He almost falls over trying to kick his shoes off at the same time he pushes his own jeans and underwear off but he manages somehow. Dean grabs his hips and pulls him down again, back into the same position he was in a few moments ago.  
  
“Gonna ride me, Sammy? Fuck yourself on my cock just like this?” Dean drawls, his tone low and deep and gritty, smooth like silk but fiery like whiskey.  
  
Sam moans in agreement, shifting up onto his knees long enough to grab the base of Dean’s cock. Dean growls out a litany of curses when Sam sits back, sinking down on his cock all the way, his full balls brushing the swell of Sam’s ass. There’s a slight burn but Sam’s wet enough that it’s a smooth slide, his muscles getting more used to this every time they do it. Beside, he’s come to find out in the last month or so that he likes a little bit of pain with his pleasure.  
  
“Fuck,” Dean gasps, his eyes wide, his lips parted, his chest heaving as he pants. “You okay?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Sam hums in response, unable to form words right at the moment. He honestly never thought the feeling of Dean’s thick – perfect – length would feel so fucking amazing filling him up. A part of him wonders if it’s because it’s  _Dean_  that makes it so good; if he had mated with another alpha would the sensations be this amazing. He can’t help but think it wouldn’t. And he never wants to find out anyway.  
  
Dean’s hands are like brands on his hips, strong and warm and familiar and Sam curls his fingers around Dean’s broad shoulders, his thumbs fitting into the hollow of Dean’s collarbones like they were made to fit together like this. He picks up a rhythm, rolling his hips slowly, keening softly at the feeling of Dean’s cock dragging along his rim, his swollen cock-head hitting his prostate perfectly. It still amazes him, even a little more than a month in, how easy it is between them, how they instinctively know what the other needs, what feels good, how to move together like they’ve been doing this for their whole lives. In some weird, unrelated way, Sam kind of thinks that they have. The few people that he had sex with before – a handful of girls before he met Jess – hadn’t ever felt this right, this natural, not even Jessica. He’d never had the time with anyone else, except her, to build up the level of familiarity that he and Dean instinctively have. Even with Jess, things were slow and tentative and a little awkward for months before they settled into a decent rhythm. He and Dean had it from the very first time.  
  
Dean moans softly, his hands sliding up Sam’s sides, up to his neck, back down again. Sam closes his eyes for a moment, his head falling back, an echoing moan tearing from his throat. He loves the feeling of Dean’s hands on him, the strong yet reverent touches.  
  
He loses track of how long they move together, Sam writhing in Dean’s lap, Dean grinding his hips up, thrusting as best as he can beneath Sam’s weight, but all too soon he can feel Dean’s knot starting to swell. He moans when it catches on his rim, the slight burning when he pulls away and sinks back down. Dean grabs his hips, pushing him down hard, urging Sam to grind down against him.  
  
“Gonna,” Dean grunts.  
  
“Do it,” Sam pants, forcefully pulling his head back up and reopening his eyes, locking with lust-blown, almost identical hazel-green. “Fuck, De, feels so good. Knot me, big brother.”  
  
Dean growls and Sam can feel the moment Dean’s knot swells all the way, locking them together, his cock throbbing inside Sam’s ass as the first wave of his release hits Sam’s sensitive inner muscles. Dean grabs his hips again, fingers biting into bone and muscle, hard enough to bruise. “Sammy,” he breathes.  
  
Sam drops one hand down to his own neglected cock, moaning harshly when he wraps his fingers around his shaft. Dean stares up at him, eyes wide and dark, love and devotion clearly written in his intense gaze. “Gonna come for me, baby?” he rasps, tone fucked-out but soft.  
  
Sam nods, choking on a broken moan when his cock twitches against his palm, his ass fluttering around Dean’s cock and knot. Dean rolls his hips just slightly, his knot rubbing against Sam’s prostate and that’s just it. Sam comes with a hoarse cry, his release hitting Dean’s stomach, dribbling down his own fist. Dean whispers softly, encouragement and praise, love and devotion: “So beautiful, baby. Love watchin’ you come for me. Feel so good around me, little brother. So perfect.”  
  
Sam collapses against Dean’s chest, his face buried in the sweat-slick skin of Dean’s neck, his lips pressing against Dean’s still rapidly fluttering pulse. His whole body is still trembling slightly, aftershocks of pleasure shooting up and down his spine and he closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling, the safety he feels in his brother’s embrace, the love in his brother’s touch, and the pleasure of their mating. Dean’s hands slide up and down his back, fingers drawing random patterns against his sweaty flesh.  
  
“I love you,” Sam whispers, nuzzling under Dean’s jaw.  
  
“Me too, Sammy,” Dean says softly, turning his head to press a kiss to the side of Sam’s face.  
  
Dean’s hands stop at the small of his back, his fingers lacing together, as he merely holds Sam. “So,” he starts quietly. “Got a bit of time here, you wanna talk?”  
  
Sam snorts a laugh and pulls back enough to look at Dean. “You really wanna talk  _now_? When I can still feel your knot pulsing inside me?”  
  
Dean shrugs one shoulder, an oddly serious expression on his face. “You can’t run from me right now…” he says softly, carefully.  
  
Sam huffs, his lips pulling down into a slight frown. “I’m not… I wouldn’t run,” he argues.  
  
Dean raises one eyebrow, giving Sam an incredulous look. “You wouldn’t let me touch you when we were talkin’ about this yesterday at the motel,” he points out. “And you… You were as far away as you could get at the time.”  
  
“’s just…” Sam sighs, shaking his head. “’s not like this is something easy to talk about,” he huffs.  
  
“’s me, Sammy,” Dean replies simply, and in his mind, it probably is that simple. What Dean doesn’t understand is sometimes Sam has trouble talking to him  _because_  it’s Dean. “We’re in this together. ‘m not goin’ anywhere. If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”  
  
He’s got a point but Sam remembers all too well how Dean took it when he was rambling yesterday, just saying whatever was on his mind, how Dean got the ridiculous idea in his head that Sam regrets them. Sam sighs again and presses his forehead against Dean’s. “I don’t… I don’t wanna say something that will hurt you,” he admits quietly.  
  
“You won’t,” Dean assures him.  
  
“I already have,” Sam argues. Dean just raises an eyebrow, staring at him pointedly. Sam rolls his eyes and sighs again. “Fine. ‘m… confused about things. Yes, I wanted this, wanted it for a long time,  _still_  want it,” he points out firmly, “But I can’t help but feel… conflicted, I guess. There’s a part of me that feels like I  _shouldn’t_  want it. But I don’t regret it. I hate that I have to deal with heats now but only because I feel so out of control with them. And I guess, a part of me feels like I’m almost forcing you…”  
  
“That’s not true, baby boy,” Dean cuts him off gently.  
  
“We had to abandon a hunt, Dean. All because I needed to have your knot. Can you honestly tell me that in that moment, you  _wanted_  to have sex with me?”  
  
“I always wanna have sex with you,” Dean points out.  
  
“But under normal, everyday circumstances, would you have ditched a hunt, right in the middle of it, in order to have sex?”  
  
“Well… No, but…”  
  
“No buts. That’s exactly my point. Because of pheromones and biology, I forced you to have sex with me, when you didn’t want to.”  
  
“You do realize that your train of logic is fuckin’ ridiculous, don’t you?” Dean asks. “Sammy, you’re my  _mate_. Besides that, you’re my little brother. And you were in heat. I wasn’t going to let you suffer over some damn hunt. You’re what’s important to me. Always have been, always will be. And, believe me, sweetheart,” Dean drawls, pointedly grinding his hips up against Sam’s, his knot still pulsing, “I want you all the Goddamn time.”  
  
Sam’s breath hitches a bit and he can feel himself fluttering around Dean, milking the waves of his orgasm out of him. “That’s not…” he breathes, trailing off on a soft moan when Dean does it again, Sam’s cock twitching against his thigh, fresh arousal shooting up and down his spine. “Oh God, De…”  
  
Dean grabs the back of Sam’s head, his fingers tightening into a fist in his hair, and pulls Sam down into a dirty, wet kiss. His other hand snakes between them and curls around Sam’s quickly rehardening cock.  
  
“All the fuckin’ time, Sammy,” Dean growls.  
  
Sam lets himself get caught up in Dean again, letting go of the fact that they haven’t even talked about the biggest issue that they’re facing. But he honestly doesn’t  _want_  to talk about that. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to talk about what they did discuss. He knows that they need to but he’s really not happy about that. Besides, Dean feels too good inside him, sliding his knot against his sweet spot and his strong, calloused fingers wrapped around Sam’s cock.  
  
After, once Dean’s knot deflates enough for them to separate, Dean pulls him down onto the couch, the two of them awkwardly squishing into the small space, Dean wrapped around Sam from behind, both arms tight around him – one around his shoulders and one around his waist. Sam’s eyes slide closed as Dean’s fingers absently brush over his abs, beneath his belly button, his throat tightening up. He’s not sure if Dean realizes he’s doing it or if it’s just a subconscious move but it still hits Sam, deep in his gut.  
  
“You want it,” Sam whispers, a statement not a question.  
  
Dean’s fingers still for a moment before moving again, a soft sigh tickling the back of Sam’s neck. “And you don’t.”  
  
“I didn’t… I didn’t say that,” Sam frowns. “I don’t… I’ve never thought about it, really. Especially not in this sense. Jess and I never talked about kids. Honestly, I never thought I’d have any. Definitely didn’t think I’d  _literally_  be the one having them.”  
  
“But I just… I don’t understand. We knew,  _you_ knew, that it was a possibility once you were changed.”  
  
“I know,” Sam sighs. “I didn’t think it would happen honestly. Certainly didn’t think that it’d happen so soon.” Sam leans back against his brother more, his hand sliding over the arm Dean has around his waist. “It terrifies me,” Sam confesses, barely a whisper.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Havin’ this kid. Raising it the way we were. Of him or her hating me.”  
  
Dean presses a kiss to his bare shoulder. “We don’t know what’s gonna happen…”  
  
“Are we gonna stop hunting? Settle down and get nine-to-fives and raise the kid normal?” Sam challenges.  
  
“I don’t know,” Dean whispers. “It’s not even been two days, Sammy. How can you expect me to plan the next eighteen years of our lives when I’m not even sure what tomorrow’s gonna bring?”  
  
“I know,” Sam breathes. “And ‘m sorry. I shouldn’t be puttin’ all this on you…”  
  
“That’s not what I mean,” Dean cuts him off. “’s my job to take care’a you, protect you, whatever needs to be done. It’s always been my job but now it’s… There’s more to it now, I guess.”  
  
“How d’you,” Sam pauses, clears his too-tight throat. “How d’you feel about it?”  
  
“Told you,” Dean murmurs, his hand flattening against Sam’s flat abs, his fingers splayed wide over where Sam knows their child is. “It’s a part of you. And that’s enough for me.” Dean’s hand moves in comforting circles and Sam feels tears biting at the corners of his eyes. “It’s our kid, Sammy,” Dean continues, his voice soft but raw with emotion, “Maybe ‘s too soon but I already know that I’d die to keep him or her safe. Just like I would for you.”  
  
A few tears break free and for a long few minutes, Sam can’t speak. “I love you,” he eventually rasps, his tone sounding like he’d been gargling shards of broken glass.  
  
“Me…” Dean stops and inhales deeply, his nose pressed against the back of Sam’s neck, “I love you, too,” he whispers.  
  
Sam always knew that his brother loved him and he honestly hadn’t ever needed Dean to say the words, even after they mated. But with his emotions all over the place and the fact that he’s pregnant, he realizes that he really needed to hear it this time. His breath hitches and he squeezes Dean’s wrist hard enough that the bones grind together a bit. “C-can we really do this?” Sam asks softly, turning his head enough to look at Dean over his shoulder. “Can we really have this kid and not screw it up? Not be like Dad?”  
  
Dean smiles and presses a kiss to the tip of Sam’s nose. “We can do anything, baby. So long as we stick together.”

 

 


End file.
